Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs
by Rebekah
Summary: A mystery/romance
1. Chapter One

[My favorite fiction is the mystery genre with a little romance in the mix. My favorite setting is a cold, rainy day and sitting by a crackling fire with a new mystery to read. 'Caroline in the City' characters do not belong to me. All others in the story exist only in my vivid imagination. R.]  
  
  
  
CAROLINE AND THE BODY UNDER THE STAIRS  
  
Rebekah  
  
Chapter One  
  
Sometimes one single event in our lives is so powerful, so earthshaking, it has the power to change everything that was at one time so familiar. I ought to know. It happened to me. Everything in my own familiar and comfortable little world changed. Things that were once important to me were not so any more. I guess you could say that my priorities changed focus. Because of this, I want to put the facts down on paper for posterity. After all, someday my children and grandchildren will want the whole story and I wouldn't want to forget the least little detail.  
  
I guess the best place to start is at the beginning. My name is Caroline Duffy and I am the creator and cartoonist of the cartoon strip, 'Caroline in the City.' I consider myself to be an artist because the job requires a lot of creativity, but there are some that would argue that point. Luckily for me, my little cartoon strip has been syndicated in hundreds of newspapers across the country. In addition I always have calendars or mugs or books or gift items to create as well. It was always a great life and I guess most people would call me successful. Too bad I didn't feel that way. My professional life might have been great but my personal life was a mess.  
  
It's not that I'm unattractive or anything. I'm pretty in what I consider a regular sort of way although there have been male acquaintances who have called me beautiful. Maybe I'm just too critical of myself. I know I'm a good person because I was raised that way. But I knew it would take more than a good heart to find the right man to spend the rest of my life with. Anyway, I guess I'm getting a little off the subject, a bad habit of mine, or so I have been told.  
  
The day my world started to change was the second Friday in June just after my thirty-first birthday. I was standing at my big picture window that looked down on the side street from the second floor. A mass of blue and white patrol cars were lining the street and alley.  
  
"Hey Richard, it looks like something big is going down. There are six cop cars down there."  
  
"So." Richard continued his coloring without breaking stride.  
  
"Aren't you even the least bit curious? Don't you want to know what is going on in the neighborhood?"  
  
"No." I had a feeling he was in a worse than usual mood today. I kept watch at the window, giving him a running monologue on the activity down below.  
  
"Oh, no, there's a coroners wagon. Someone must have died." Richard had given up and came to stand next to me at my post.  
  
"Very observant, Sherlock. Any other clues?" He said dryly. Richard Karinsky was my assistant and coworker. He had been working for me for almost two years now. Richard is a very different man than what I was used to. To explain him would take pages and pages so I'll cut it short. On any given day, he was rude, hard working, sarcastic, humorous, impatient and very sweet. In short, he was a man of contradiction. He and I had become good friends thanks to me with my constant probing and poking into his life. For some reason, he put up with it.  
  
"Well, according to the shadows on the ground, I'd say it was getting late and our work is not done. The sarcasm in your voice tells me it's late Friday and you want to go home. I hear the sound of the elevator, which means that Charlie is probably here to pick up the finished strips." Just then my door popped open and the courier skated in.  
  
"Wow, you're good." Richard's sarcastic answer held a tiny bit of respect.  
  
"Hey, Caroline. Hey Richard." Charlie skated to a stop on my side of the desk. Charlie was the messenger for my strip. Every weekday, he picked up my work and delivered it to the publisher's office. Charlie is.well, hard to explain so I'll just say that Charlie is Charlie and that's about it.  
  
"Just about finished, Charlie. Why don't you sit down and rest a while?"  
  
"Can't Caroline. I gotta go back downstairs where the action is. The man is down in the lobby."  
  
"The 'man', Charlie?" I asked in some confusion.  
  
"Police, coppers, the fuzz, the pigs, the long arm of the law." He was skating in circles now, obviously wound up from the confusion downstairs. At least, I hoped that was the reason.  
  
I just stared at him. I noticed Richard doing the same.  
  
"Okay, I give up. What happened in the building?"  
  
Charlie came to a stop. "They found a body on the fourth floor. It was dead."  
  
I looked over at Richard and noticed he was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. He seemed to have a lot of patience with Charlie, god knows why.  
  
"Charlie, people pass away everyday. It was probably an older person-" I started to gently explain to him.  
  
"No, it was a thirty two year old chick who lived alone.with a cat." He looked at me. "Whoa, creepy, Caroline. That could have been you."  
  
I had gotten up from my chair at the large double writers desk and sat down on the couch. I suddenly didn't feel so good. "I'm thirty one." I heard myself say quietly.  
  
"The news on the grapevine is that she was offed. You know, killed, murdered, rubbed out, bumped off..." He circled his neck with his hands and made a strangling noise.  
  
"Charlie." I could hear the warning tone in Richard's voice.  
  
Charlie chose not to listen. "But the body had been there for three days. They just now found it because of the smell. And the best part is, the body was found under her stairs." He skated over to my own staircase and pointed dramatically at the small closet door located there. Like I said, Charlie is Charlie. I know he didn't mean to be tactless or disrespectful and the 'best part' to him meant the most 'exciting part' but that didn't help my heaving stomach.  
  
I suddenly found a short glass of what smelled like Scotch whiskey shoved into my hands. I looked up into Richard's gentle brown eyes. Did I mention how sweet he was?  
  
"Caroline, drink this. You don't look too good."  
  
I sipped the drink and wrinkled my nose at the taste. I don't care for the stuff but I have it around for guests and emergencies. Like this one, I guess.  
  
To be continued.. 


	2. Chapter Two

Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs  
  
Chapter Two  
  
I was still sitting on my couch and Richard was sitting across from me in an armchair when there was a knock on the door. Richard glanced over at me, then walked over and opened the door. Two of New York's finest were standing in the doorway. The older of the two appeared to be in charge. With his salt and pepper gray hair, he was a considerably handsome older man. I fleetingly wondered where Annie was.  
  
"Hello, I'm Lieutenant Phillips and this is Sergeant Watson. We're from the NYPD and were visiting all the tenants in the building. May we come in?"  
  
Richard opened the door wider in response. I escorted them to the couch and sat in the armchair across from them. I noticed Richard sat back down on his own chair at the desk and appeared to be engrossed in his work. I hoped they didn't smell alcohol on my breath.  
  
"Now, you are…" Lt. Phillips had pulled out a small notebook and had a pen poised over a blank page. Sgt. Watson was doing the same. I don't know why I felt nervous, as if I was being grilled. I hadn't done anything wrong.  
  
"Caroline Duffy." I spelled the name out for them. "Is this because of the murder?"  
  
The lieutenant held up his hand to stop me. "Ma'am, we just need some information about the occupants of this apartment right now. Are you the main tenant or are you subletting?"  
  
I confirmed the former. His next question irked me I have to admit. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you live alone or is there a Mr. Duffy?"  
  
I mentally sighed. "I live alone, well, except for my cat." I glanced over at Salty, my white Persian. The officers' eyes followed mine. Salty was sound asleep in her basket, oblivious of everything.  
  
"Well, how about him? Does he live with you?" the Lt. was pointing in Richard's direction. I turned around and looked at Richard who looked up at me at that moment. Turning back to the officers, I admitted that he didn't live there.  
  
"It just seems like it sometimes," came Richard's voice from the desk.  
  
"So, you two are involved? Like an item or something?" Both officers looked at me, pens at the ready. Of course, we weren't involved. Richard just worked for me. I have denied this so many times to curious parties. At first, I had found it laughable to think of being involved with the man. But lately, my denials were weaker, more indecisive. As we had grown closer and I started to understand Richard more and more, I had become more attached to him and, dare I admit it, but also attracted to him. I found myself thinking about him when he wasn't there. It was when the nighttime dreams of being in bed with him started that I sat up and took notice. Unfortunately, I was sure he thought of me as only his boss and a sometimes- irritant person in his life.  
  
"No, we're not involved. I am Caroline's employee. That's all." Richard had jumped into the breach of the conversation. I didn't even have to answer.  
  
"And your name is…" The men scribbled his answer in their notebooks. "But, you come and go during the day time hours, right?"  
  
Richard regarded the men for a few seconds then sighed audibly. "You don't understand. I come in at nine o'clock; I'm chained to this desk and then at five o'clock, Caroline unchains me and I go home. That's all." Both men looked at him then down at their notebooks once again.  
  
The Sgt. spoke up for the first time in our conversation, asking me what I did for a living to be able to work at home. I explained my cartoon strip, holding up a sample. Neither officer appeared to be familiar with it. I was crushed.  
  
The Lt. looked at me once again. "Now, Ms. Duffy, do you recall what you did on Tuesday? Did you notice anyone different in the building, someone who didn't belong?"  
  
I had to laugh at that. There were all types of people in this building, people I noticed all day long coming in and out. I sat puzzling over my answer.  
  
"Tell you what. Why don't you just tell me about your day, starting with when you got up in the morning. Give me all the details, don't leave anything out."  
  
"Don't worry, she won't." I heard Richard mutter behind me. I turned around and gave him a dirty look. He just stared myopically at me.  
  
"Well, let's see." I sat for a moment, trying to remember three days ago. "I got up, made coffee, ate a bagel and cleaned out Salty's litter box. At nine o'clock or thereabouts--" I made a point of turning around and looking at Richard, "Richard comes in to work. Now, I remember. That was the day I had to finish the gift mugs for Mother's Day and Father's Day. I also had to design a set of gift stationary." I got up and grabbed my sample to show the officers. Richard yawned loudly in his chair. I ignored him.  
  
"And what exactly does Mr. Karinsky do again?"  
  
"He colors in my sketches. See?" I held up the new strip board from that day's work. "He even colors inside the lines." I was grinning. That last part was payback for the yawn.  
  
"Okay, go on."  
  
"I did go out to pick up lunch at the deli down the street, you know, the Greek Deli on the corner? Have you ever eaten there?"  
  
The Sgt. spoke up. "Oh, I love that place. Have you tried their-" His eyes met the disapproving ones of his supervisor and he stopped short.  
  
"Then what, Ms. Duffy?" The Lt. was all business.  
  
"Well…I met the mailman when I came back. He was in the lobby, so he handed me my mail. He's really nice so I'm sure he's innocent."  
  
"We'll be the judge of that, Ms. Duffy."  
  
"Okay. I think that was about it. I remember I had a lot of work that day so I didn't see very many people. Oh wait, there was the Federal Express guy. He must have been new on my route because I've never seen him before." The Sgt asked me to describe the man and both were writing furiously. "I'm sure Annie came in at least once that day. She's always here."  
  
"Annie?" the Lt. asked.  
  
"Annie Spadaro, my neighbor across the hall. She's a dancer in Cats. You know, the musical?" I had to ask, since you never knew. Both men nodded.  
  
"Does she live alone?"  
  
This question brought out a snicker from Richard's direction.  
  
"Yes, she does. Although she has friends that visit." No one can ever accuse me of not being diplomatic.  
  
"Okay, I'm sure we'll want to talk to her also. Is there anything else you can remember? Even the slightest detail might be helpful. Sometimes something you think is unimportant might not be. You have to tell us everything."  
  
I sat and pondered this for a moment. Not much ever happens in my life and Tuesday was no exception. Just the idea of sitting here and working all day and living my life while some other woman like me was being murdered was so unsettling.  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"How about your wet pants?" Richard's question caused me to blush. Both officers looked from him to me for an explanation. I guess I should have remembered the occurrence because my bottom was still bruised.  
  
"It was nothing, really. The mailman had given me my mail and I was looking through the pile as I was walking to the elevator and I slipped on the wet floor, falling on my-" I stopped, searching for a less embarrassing description than 'my ass.' "-my derriere. That's all. I wasn't watching where I was going and I slipped on the newly mopped floor. Surely that can't be important." I knew I was still blushing. Although the fact that Richard remembered my wet and muddy rear end three days later caused my heartstrings to hum.  
  
"I heard there was a murder in the building. What happened?" I had to know although part of me didn't want to know. You probably understand.  
  
Sgt. Watson pulled a photo out of his breast pocket and handed it to me. It was of a woman about my age with shoulder length blonde hair and beautiful features. It was hard to imagine that she still lived alone. If she hadn't found anyone, what hope was there for me? I didn't want to dwell on it.  
  
"Do you know this woman?" he asked me.  
  
"No."  
  
"How about him?" He gestured over to Richard who came over to study the picture.  
  
The change on Richard's face was amazing. His earlier nonchalance was replaced by confusion and a questioning look. And, dare I say it, a look of guilt?  
  
"Well, sir? Do you know this woman?"  
  
"I…I…uh." Poor Richard. He looked so uncomfortable. I wanted to help him out but this was shocking to me. How in the world would he know this woman? I felt a burning sensation of jealousy in my gut. Now both officers were sitting up at attention. Richard licked his dry lips.  
  
"She wanted me to paint her portrait. That's all." He laughed weakly.  
  
"So you were what, sharing a ride in the elevator and she just asked you to paint her picture, huh? Out of the blue?" The Lt. watched Richard alertly. Surely they wouldn't suspect him?  
  
"Portrait, not picture." Leave it to Richard to correct someone's grammar. "And yes, that's about it. She asked what I did for a living and I told her I was an artist. She asked if I did portraits." He said defiantly, then sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair, ruffling it.  
  
I started to say something, but the Lt. held up his hand for silence. "And when was this?"  
  
"Tuesday morning." It was so quiet I could actually hear my watch ticking. They asked him more questions. How did she look, how was she dressed, was she happy, sad…and on and on. I had to jump in.  
  
"I am sure Richard had nothing to do with this. He's worked here for almost two years and I can vouch for him. We're really good friends and I know he wouldn't hurt a fly."  
  
"Ms. Duffy, we have to ask these questions. WE haven't worked with him for two years." The Lt. swung back to Richard. "So that was the last time you saw her?"  
  
Richard nodded. Still, I wouldn't shut up.  
  
"Richard couldn't kill anyone. I trust him completely. I would trust him with my life." I could feel the flow of adrenaline through my body. Couldn't they tell his innocence just by looking at him?  
  
"Caroline, Caroline…" Richard was trying to get my attention but I was determined to straighten them out. I wasn't going to let them railroad my Richard.  
  
"He couldn't kill anything. He can't even kill the cockroaches in his apartment, that's how innocent he is. And you can't blame him for killing those animals when he was young because those were just accid-" Okay, maybe that was a little too much information. Richard's bowed head pretty much confirmed that.  
  
Both detectives shut their notebooks. "We'll be in touch. We've got more interviews to make. Stay in town." This last sentence was aimed at Richard. They rose to leave.  
  
"But how...how…did she die?" Like I said, I had to know. It's like a car accident at the side of the road. You don't want to see the gore, but your eyes are drawn to it just the same.  
  
"Well, I can tell you she was strangled to death but I can't tell you anymore than that. All else is confidential police information only in case we find a suspect." I just nodded, speechless. Strangled to death, in my building, my supposedly safe building. I couldn't help but glance over at the closet doorknob under my stairs. And now, thanks to me, they probably suspected Richard.  
  
"How long had she lived in this building?" I figured maybe a couple of weeks since I had never seen her coming or going.  
  
"Almost a year." The Sgt. had consulted his notes.  
  
Both men looked at each other and rose. The Lt. handed me a card. "If there's anything, anything at all that you remember later, please give me a call. That number will page me wherever I am."  
  
I nodded and followed them to the door. "Ma'am, I would suggest that you keep your door locked." I didn't want to argue with him about locking my door. With the amount of visitors I have, it would be a waste of time. I really wanted to straighten out the mess I made about Richard but I had a feeling he would strangle me himself and right in front of the officers.  
  
  
  
To be continued… 


	3. Chapter Three

Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs  
  
Chapter three  
  
  
  
After the detectives left, I silently wandered over to my desk chair and plopped down. Richard didn't move out of the chair.  
  
"Richard, I'm so sorry. I was trying to help you."  
  
He just stared at me, shaking his head.  
  
"Just promise me you won't testify on my behalf, Caroline. I think I could do without you as a character witness." He ran his fingers through his hair again. "Let's get back to work."  
  
"Richard, you actually met this woman?"  
  
"Caroline, I don't want to discuss it. Isn't is enough that I'm probably at the top of the list of suspects?"  
  
"But-"  
  
"No." He picked up a pencil and started to color in a strip.  
  
"But you might have been the last person to see her alive. Doesn't that bother you?" He lifted his head and looked slightly annoyed with me.  
  
"Correction: second to last person to see her alive. Or do you think I'm a murderer?" His beautiful brown eyes challenged mine. I had to smile at him. I always do. He just makes me smile.  
  
"No, I would never think that. I happen to think that you are a very kind and gentle man. I think you're one of the best I've ever met." Now don't ask me why that all spilled out when it did. I have complimented Richard before but never so seriously and I knew, sounding so heartfelt. I watched as color sprang up into his face. He cleared his throat nervously. I could see he was desperately searching for something sarcastic to fling back into my court.  
  
"Well, now that we both know what we were doing on Tuesday, we should finish this work and get it to the printers." Wow. Nothing. Maybe I was starting to grow on him after all.  
  
I remember thinking that I wished there was something I could do. People generally open up to me. Maybe if I talked to the other tenants I might come up with something for the police. "You know, I think I'll just take a walk down to the lobby and get the mail. I might have some important bills to pay." I know I said this innocently. I have this Wisconsin clean- cut honesty thing about me. Who wouldn't believe me?  
  
"Caroline, keep out of it. You're not Nancy Drew." What is it with him? Is what I'm thinking written across my forehead? I wrinkled up my face and started to argue with him.  
  
"But—"  
  
"Caroline, this is not a game. This could be dangerous. Let the police do their job. That's what they're paid to do. You're paid to make fun of all the rest of us." Richard and I always had this game we would play. He always had to get in a small dig about my strip and I would ignore him.  
  
It was the first part of what he said to me that caught my attention. "Richard, are you worried about my safety? That is so sweet." I was flattered and elated. I gazed up at his face, looking for any signs of affection for me. Except for a rapid blinking of his eyes, his face was blank.  
  
"It's called job security, Caroline. I still need a paycheck regularly." Richard was an artist. I mean, a serious artist, starving and everything. He was dedicated and single-minded about being discovered someday and I admired him for that. I'm not sure I could put up with such rejection for years and years.  
  
I started drawing circles with my pencil on the top of the desk. Maybe he was right and I should just leave it alone. But, after all, there was a killer on the loose. Just maybe if I-.  
  
"Caroline. Leave it alone." There it was again. Maybe the man had ESP or something.  
  
"Okay, okay. You win." Maybe this is a good place to mention that just because I SAY I agree doesn't mean that I really do. I'm a pretty determined and single-minded woman. Sometimes this gets me in trouble.  
  
My door popped open and Annie ran in, plopping down on the couch in full recline, her long dancer legs wiggling in the air as she dried her bright red toenail polish. Annie is my neighbor and best friend. She's spontaneous, fun, loud, loves men and isn't afraid to show it. There have been times when I have wished I was like her but I'm not. Maybe because we're so different that we get along so great.  
  
"Caroline, have you heard the news?" She inspected her toenails closely, testing the dryness of the polish job. "Hey, Poindexter." She casually threw the last comment to Richard. Annie loved to bait him. I think that was the one thing that drew her to my apartment every day. She loved the challenge of coming up with new ways to get a rise out of him.  
  
"Hey, slut." As usual, she couldn't. Sometimes with these two it was like watching a tennis match.  
  
"Caroline, have you heard about the murder? In our building? Now we'll be in the papers AND there are cops all over this building."  
  
"Hmmm, possible dates?" Richard deadpanned. Point one for him.  
  
"Oh, please, Richard. Do you think that's all I think about? Especially during a time like this?"  
  
Richard and I waited silently. We both knew her.  
  
Annie cast her eyes up to the ceiling and then looked at us. "Well, okay, maybe one or two. But that's all." She protested.  
  
I had to comment. Richard acted like he didn't care and Annie was actually excited about a murder. What is it about big cities that brought this out in people? Was I the only person shocked by all this? Both of them stared back at me, shaking their heads at my naiveté.  
  
"But she lived here a year and we never even met her. Do you know she was" I gulped at the thought, "dead for three days before they found her because no one missed her? That could have been me." I felt suddenly very depressed.  
  
"But Caroline, I visit everyday and Ritchie is always here. We would find your body right away," Annie informed me. Somehow this failed to cheer me up.  
  
"Anyway, the cops were asking if I have ever met the woman, which I hadn't and about my date that day. Who, by the way, is above suspicion. Then they were asking questions about Dr. Kevorkian over there so I mentioned my Unibomber theory." Point one for Annie. She was gloating until she saw the looks on our faces. "Don't worry, I told them I was just joking. Geez, you two, get a sense of humor."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Caroline already pointed out to them that I kill small animals," Richard said mournfully.  
  
"Cheer up, Ritchie. Caroline can come visit you in prison. I hear they allow conjugal visits now." Annie was up by one point now.  
  
"I'm sure you know this from experience." He was definitely on his game today. I would have to declare a tie.  
  
Right about then my door opened again. This time is was Del. See what I mean about the amount of people waltzing in and out of my apartment? It's like a revolving door. It's amazing how much work I actually get done in a day.  
  
"What the heck is going on in this building? Do you know I had to park three blocks away because the police took all the other spaces?" Del Cassidy was my past boyfriend-slash-fiancé and present boss since I seem to be on his payroll now instead of his father's.  
  
"Del, a woman was murdered in this building. Up on the fourth floor. The police are questioning everyone." I gave up trying to work. "They found her body stuffed in the closet under the stairs." I stopped to swallow, feeling my breakfast high in my throat. "They want to know what everyone was doing around here on Tuesday."  
  
"Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday…" Del appeared to be deep in thought while checking out his reflection in the side of my toaster. He moved a lock of hair to one side and lifted up his chin to inspect his neck area. The man has his vanity along with a fear of growing old.  
  
"That would be the day after Monday and right before Wednesday." Richard, speaking slowly as you would to a toddler, rarely resisted an opportunity to level sarcasm at Del's intelligence level. Or lack thereof. You're probably wondering why I nearly married this man. All I can say in my defense is that I ignored his vanity and shallow ideals because I wanted to get married. Del is successful, comes from a well-to-do family, has plenty of money and a Porsche. And the sex was great. For a lot of women, this is an ideal combination. I guess I should have known myself better than that.  
  
Annie snickered. "That information won't compute in his brain. He needs to know which woman he was with that day."  
  
Del tore himself away from his reflection and looked annoyed. "Well, at least I have a life which is more than I can say for the two of you."  
  
Richard and Annie jumped to their own defense and the argument was on. I tuned them out as I do many times and just sat thinking. Something in my memory was bothering me. There had to have been something I missed about the day of the murder. Maybe if I started over and replayed my day over in my mind in minute detail it would come to me. Since I am an artist, I should be good at remembering details. I just had to help. That poor woman could have been me. I shuttered with the thought.  
  
I must have been too quiet for them for suddenly Del got my attention and suggested we go out for dinner. Absentmindedly, I agreed.  
  
To be continued… 


	4. Chapter Four

Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
So I had dinner with Del. I know what you're thinking but forget it. He and I are just friends and we still hang out together. It's strange that I feel no strong emotion for him now. That alone tells me that he was not the right guy for me. If I had really loved him, I would feel sadness or even jealousy when he's with someone else, right? But nada, zip, zero. It was just a dinner with a friend. I would much rather have dinner with Richard but he didn't ask me. He never asks me. But I guess I'm getting off the subject again.  
  
Anyway, dinner at Remo's is usually the same. I order the pasta, Del orders the veal. He talks about his latest girlfriend and I talk about my cartoon strip. He tells me he can write it off for the IRS that way.  
  
After dinner, we separated, leaving me on my own to walk home. I preferred this so I could think. As I walked, I glanced in the store windows. I love window-shopping because it doesn't cost a thing. I must have been walking and checking out the newest merchandise for at least twenty minutes when I felt it.  
  
It wasn't anything obvious that I could put my finger on. There was no spooky background music to catch my attention. It was just a strange, kind of creepy feeling going up and down my spine. I had the distinct feeling I was being followed.  
  
I stood staring in one of the Bloomie's windows trying to catch a reflection of who might be behind me. I turned around and scoured the street and saw nothing. Of course, there were people. Lots of them, going in all directions and ignoring me but I still didn't see anyone that I could say aroused my suspicion. I tried to shrug it off but I was sure I wasn't wrong. Somebody made me feel as if I had a bull's-eye painted on my back.  
  
I quickly whipped around and blindly headed up the street to get away from the intense feeling and ran smack into Richard. I was thrown off balance and landed in his arms. I don't mind telling you that it didn't bother me at all. In fact I have to confess that I used those few seconds to my advantage. As I pressed my body close to him, I took in his scent, a combination of citrus and something else I couldn't put a finger on. It didn't matter, it was just him.  
  
"Whoa, Caroline. Are you all right?" He had dropped his arms from around me way too soon. "How was your date with Del?"  
  
"Uh-" I was still trying to catch my breathe. "Uh…it was okay." When Richard said the word date, it was laced with sarcasm and something else indefinable. I straightened him out.  
  
"It wasn't a date, Richard. We just had dinner as friends, that's all. Where are you going?"  
  
He was looking down at me, his brown eyes hooded and impossible to read. "Actually I was on my way to a small art show a couple of blocks down." He hesitated and then asked if I wanted to accompany him. He didn't have to ask me twice. My fears of a few moments ago were put behind me and forgotten.  
  
I have to say that the evening was wonderful. It wasn't the art show or the coffee we sipped afterwards or the incredibly wonderful weather. It was the company. Isn't that usually what makes or breaks a date? Because I did consider this a date even if Richard had no idea that it was. As we slowly circled the exhibit, I studied each painting at leisure so I could drag out the evening as long as possible. Three newly discovered artists proudly displayed their talents. The style filling the room was a type of abstract with violent blobs of paint here and there that evidently had meaning. I still don't get it.  
  
Way back in the corner were two small landscape paintings of a farm surrounded by fields. I remember blinking in some shock as I was drawn to them. To say they were out of place was an understatement. I just stared at them, realizing how much I enjoyed art if I understood it.  
  
"Beautiful." Richard murmured next to me. I turned to look at him and caught him watching me. "The paintings." He added quickly for explanation in case I got the wrong impression. I preferred to think he was talking about me. Ahhh, wishful thinking.  
  
As I contemplated the artwork, it suddenly occurred to me what had bothered me about Tuesday. Something was out of sinc in my day. Some tiny detail didn't fit with the rest. I couldn't remember it but my subconscious had and was trying to tell me so. Maybe if I just stopped thinking so hard, it would occur to me. I have found in my work that if I distract myself with other things sudden inspiration abounds. Looking at Richard, I knew I could distract myself very easily.  
  
As we left the gallery, I had resolved to forget the murder and forget my earlier fears that someone was following me. I decided not to mention this last to Richard. After all, what if I had just imagined that someone was watching me? Or maybe, it was Richard himself that had given me that feeling. I would look like an idiot to him and that was the last thing I wanted. So I said nothing.  
  
I would come to regret this decision later. As they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.  
  
The rest of the evening was spent talking and walking, my arm through his. As I said it was wonderful. I'm not sure he thought so because with Richard it's so hard to tell. He keeps everyone at a distance, locking his feelings and emotions behind closed doors. Once in a while, a door cracks open and allows me to catch a glimpse of the soul inside the man. I love this view. So, I'll admit it. I am in love with this guy. For the first time in my life, I felt unquestioning love and total fear. Yes, those two emotions fit together. I have always questioned my feelings for the men in my life but this time it was different. The fear was his possible and probable rejection of me. I didn't know what he wanted in a woman.  
  
So I said nothing. For some reason, the words I love you sort of stick in the back of my throat. I can talk up a storm on just about any subject but those three little words scare me to death. I had to get over this fear.  
  
Yet again, I digress. Of course, this is my story so I guess I'm allowed.  
  
The evening passed and Richard walked me to my door. I wanted him to kiss me goodnight but he didn't. I can't say I was surprised. But I did see a light in his eyes when he looked at me that wasn't there before. For now, this was all I needed.  
  
"Caroline, lock your door." He stood just outside the doorway watching me with his arms folded across his chest.  
  
"I always lock my door, Richard." I did, didn't I?  
  
"No, you don't. You forget. You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. This is New York."  
  
"Okay, okay, okay. I'll lock my door." I acted tough but secretly I was thrilled. I shut the door and made a show of turning the deadbolt. "There, happy now?" I said through the door.  
  
He didn't answer. I waited for a full minute and then there was a knock at the door. I grinned to myself and unlocked the door, opening it wide. Richard was standing there with his arms still crossed and looking quite irritated.  
  
"Caroline, when someone knocks on the door, you're supposed to ask who it is before opening the door." I knew this but I just didn't practice it. I guess I've become complacent. After all, nothing bad has ever happened to me. Isn't that the way everyone thinks? "Maybe you should have a peephole put in the door."  
  
I assured him I would change my bad habits and schedule a locksmith on Monday. We said goodnight and on impulse, I stepped up to him and kissed him full on his mouth. It was wonderful. I knew I could easily get lost kissing those soft lips. He looked shocked, his breath coming out in rasps. Oh yes, I did have an effect on him.  
  
"Good night, Richard. See you on Monday." He just nodded and strode down the hallway towards the stairwell. He obviously didn't want to wait for the elevator. I smiled to myself.  
  
  
  
To be continued… 


	5. Chapter Five

Caroline and the Body Under The Stairs  
  
  
  
Chapter five  
  
  
  
Saturday morning began with a bang, or rather, my door buzzer waking me. Looking at my alarm clock, I realized I had overslept. This is not like me at all being an early riser. I would have to blame it on those dreams of Richard. Throwing on my robe, I managed to stumble down my stairs and jerk open my door. Belatedly I remembered Richard's advice, no, command, to ask who was standing out there first. I swear it's that Wisconsin upbringing.  
  
I was safe, however, because it was Sgt. Watson. Privately I wondered how often he was teased regarding his name, being in his line of work and all. He stared at my attire.  
  
"Ms. Duffy. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"  
  
"No, no, not at all." I brushed my hair back from my face, realizing how I must look to him. I'm sure it was obvious that I had been sleeping. I could still feel grit in my eyes; I probably even had creases on my face from lying on my bunched up sheets. I ushered him into my apartment and belted my robe more tightly around me.  
  
"Ms Duffy, I was just in the building talking to the tenants again to see if anyone has remembered anything else from Tuesday. Some have been helpful like yourself and others are…" He left the sentence hanging but the inference was clear. He made a hand gesture to indicate it. This didn't surprise me since this is New York. People don't want to get involved.  
  
"Oh, that's too bad. I hope I've been able to help. I been thinking a lot about it but nothing else comes to mind." Even as I said this, I had my doubts which the Sgt must have heard in my voice. He leaned forward anxiously.  
  
"Are you sure? Anything or anyone that didn't belong to this building or any activity that seemed suspicious to you?" I shook my head. I didn't want to tell him that something in the back of my mind was bothering me because I didn't know what it was and I didn't want to appear an idiot. I had a feeling that he had already pegged me as a lonely, flighty female with a cat. Looking down, I realized I had subconsciously pulled Salty onto my lap and was petting her. Oh God.  
  
"How about the gentleman that works for you?" He consulted his notes, looking for a name.  
  
"Richard? What about him?"  
  
The Sgt. cleared his throat. "How well do you know this man? What I mean is, do you know his background?"  
  
I hate to admit it but this had me stumped. I knew Richard so well but then, not at all. I know that doesn't make any sense and judging by the look on the officer's face, it didn't to him either. After all, what did I know of Richard's earlier life? Sure I met his parents and grade school teacher but I knew little else about his early years. It's just that since working with him for two years, I knew his character. And that was good enough for me and I told the officer so.  
  
Sgt Watson hesitated and I could see him choosing his words carefully. "Ma'am, sometimes people are not what we think they are. They can hide secrets that they don't want known. It would be wise of you to be very careful regarding this man until we run a background check on him."  
  
I could feel my pulse quickening and my temper taking over. "There is nothing wrong with Richard. He's a wonderful person. Just because he keeps to himself doesn't automatically mean there is something wrong with him. He's a very sensitive and caring person even if he doesn't show it very often. There is no way he is a murderer and I would stake my life on it." So there, I added silently.  
  
The Sgt. held up his hand to stop me. "Please, ma'am, I wasn't accusing Mr. Karinsky of murder, I was just cautioning you against trusting someone you don't know very well." I hate when people call me ma'am. It ages me ten years. I took a deep breath to calm myself. The very thought of Richard killing someone in cold blood was ridiculous.  
  
"Well, he didn't do it. I would trust him with my life." I meant it but the Sgt. must have picked up something else in my voice for he raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Are you involved with this man?" He had asked me this yesterday so I don't know why he was asking again.  
  
"No, I told you we aren't involved." I wonder if he heard the disappointment in my voice like I did. He mulled this awhile and then smiled at me.  
  
"I'm sorry that I have to ask these questions. Sometimes they are very uncomfortable but they are important. If there's anything you remember from Tuesday, please give the Lieutenant a call. Do you still have his card?"  
  
I nodded my answer as he rose from the sofa. There was something bothering me. "How do you know this woman was killed on Tuesday and not on Wednesday?"  
  
He hesitated, obviously deciding whether to tell me or not.  
  
"Well, we know she was alive on Tuesday morning because Mr. Karinsky saw her on the elevator. After that, preliminary forensics on the body such as" he cleared his throat with a small ahem, "lividity of the blood" he coughed again, clearly uncomfortable with this part of the conversation, "certain postmortem changes, the absence of rigor mortis" ahem, "the presence of maggots and other insects set the time of death sometime Tuesday…" He must have seen the look on my face because he stopped. I felt suddenly faint and plunked down in the chair.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ms. Duffy, I shouldn't have explained it in detail. Are you all right?"  
  
I like to think I'm pretty tough. I put up a good front anyway. "Sure, I'm fine. Nothing wrong." I bluffed. That's what I get for asking questions.  
  
"Okay, then. Remember what I said about Mr. Karinsky and let us know if anything else comes to mind."  
  
After I let him out, I realized that I hadn't told him about that odd feeling of being followed last night. I dismissed this as unimportant. Again, a mistake I would live to regret.  
  
I thought about Richard. I knew I would never fall in love with someone who could take someone else's life. I just wished the officer hadn't filled me with doubts. I picked up the phone to call Richard. Just hearing his voice would calm me and take away these sudden doubts about him. Just as quickly, I put the phone down again.  
  
That's when I made the decision. Since some of the residents in my building weren't talking, I would try to wheedle some information out of them. Maybe I would have more luck than the cops. At the very least, I would be thinking about something other than my love, my secret description for Richard. With this resolve, I bounded upstairs to get dressed.  
  
  
  
I decided to start on the first floor. I figured a quick visit to the super's apartment would be a good start. Mrs. Tedescu opened the door to my knock.  
  
"Ohhh, Caroline, how nice to see you. Come see my dog and her new babies." She ran over to an open box. Oh great. I knew what was coming. Another litter of puppies to adore and refuse to adopt.  
  
I was right. I spent the next thirty minutes admiring their cute, fuzzy little bodies with their adorable brown noses. Once again, I explained to Mrs. Tedescu about Salty and how she reigns over everyone in my apartment. There was definitely no room for a dog in my life. I kept edging for the door and then realized what I had come for in the first place. As much as the woman wanted to gossip, she saw nothing on Tuesday that was different from any other day. Disappointed, I walked out the door and straight into Richard. Again.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this." He deadpanned as we untangled our arms and legs. I suddenly found that I couldn't get my breath and my heart was absolutely racing. The palms of my hands were sweating. Wow, this hadn't happened since high school. I remember feeling like this when I had a huge crush on some guy. I wiped my damp palms down the sides of my jeans, unable to say a thing, and just stared up at him.  
  
"I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. Uh, because, uh, you were nervous and upset yesterday about the murder." He was the one who sounded nervous. Being in my neighborhood was a transparent lie since he lived blocks and blocks away and was never in this part of town unless he had to be. It had to be that kiss last night. He couldn't get me out of his mind. I felt so happy I could have burst.  
  
He tried again. "So, what are you doing?" He smiled weakly. I grinned back.  
  
"Nothing," I can lie too. Just then, Mrs. Tedescu reopened her door.  
  
"Oh, Caroline. If you want to find any dirt, you might talk to 1C. She sees and hears everything."  
  
I thanked her, feeling Richard's disapproval without even looking at him.  
  
"Car-o-line." It was in his voice. He would drag out the last syllable of my name with emphasis when he was really irritated at me. I just shrugged.  
  
"Caroline, why are you sticking your nose into this? I told you, it's the job of the police. This is dangerous and you could get hurt. The murderer is still out there."  
  
I placed my hand on his arm. "Thanks for being concerned, Richard. I'm sure I'll be fine." I could feel his warmth through his shirt. "I have an idea. Why don't we team up like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, or Cagney and Lacey, or Mulder and Scully?"  
  
His face was unmovable.  
  
"Please, Richard? Please, please, pleeeease?" I knew he couldn't resist me. Now that I think about it, he had never been able to say no and stick to it. I noticed he had his eyes shut.  
  
"I suppose I better just to keep you out of trouble." He sighed. I get the feeling I'm high maintenance.  
  
Richard and I worked our way through all four floors cautiously tiptoeing past the ominously quiet 4B, the sight of the murder. I couldn't help feeling horribly sad about the poor woman. She was my age, unmarried and had no family. The worst part was that nobody had missed her. I didn't want this to be my life. I wanted a husband and children and dare I admit it to myself, I wanted Richard's children. Just thinking this way gave me butterflies in the pit of my stomach.  
  
I slipped my hand into his and waited for him to pull it away. He didn't disappoint me but he didn't pull away as fast as he used to. Maybe there was hope yet for us.  
  
After spending over an hour listening to gossip, fending off one guy that tried to pick me up right in front of Richard and having several doors slammed in our faces, we gave up. Our mission ended in the lobby.  
  
"Now are you happy? Got it out of your system?" Poor Richard sounded frustrated.  
  
"Yes, I guess so. It's hard to explain but I wanted to help this woman by helping to find out who killed her. I guess I just identify with her." Richard was looking at me with a strange light in his eyes, as if he was amazed at the sight of me. I could feel myself blushing. That's when I made a mistake.  
  
"So, Richard. Why don't you come back up to my apartment? We can make lunch, talk or …things." Of course, by the word things I meant kissing, touching and stuff. You know what I mean. "Get to know each other." I could hear my voice dwindle away as I saw the expression on his face. It had absolutely shut down. The windows were boarded up and no one was home. Oh god.  
  
"Caroline, I'm going home now. You and I…" He walked towards the lobby door and stopped with his back to me, "we can't be together. It would never work. Forget it."  
  
That was it. He strode out of my building leaving me shell shocked. I stumbled around the corner and headed for the stairs, not paying attention to where I was going. I just wanted to hide in my apartment where no one would see me crying. I slipped on the wet mopped floor again and landed on my butt. Struggling to my feet, I decided to tell the super that this was a lawsuit waiting to happen. I looked around for the janitor but no one was in sight.  
  
I limped into my apartment feeling as if my world had fallen apart. Why, oh why couldn't Richard love me? I wanted him to be deeply, madly in love with me. I resigned myself to the fact that I must be unlovable and would spend my life all alone. I wiped the tears off my face and pulled out my tape of When Harry Met Sally, the movie that never fails to give me hope for my own love life. After all, Harry and Sally were best friends for years before they got together.  
  
As I sat down on my couch, the effects of my fall were making themselves known. I rubbed my sore rear end and wondered why the janitor I saw the other day was nowhere around. I remembered his mumbled apology as I lay staring up at the ceiling from my position on the floor. I had sat up and noticed his black patent leather loafers followed by his greasy blue overalls and on up to his face. He had the most unusual dark blue eyes I had ever seen. They almost seemed to glitter.  
  
I turned my attention back to the movie but my mind kept coming back to those shoes and wondering why a janitor would wear dress shoes while he mopped the floors. I had forgotten this inconsistency the other day because I was so excited about getting a letter from Jeannie, my former colorist. I was so eager to read it that everything else had been forgotten.  
  
Suddenly I got this creepy feeling and reached for the phone. This was something I had not mentioned to the police. I routed around in my desk for the Lt's card, finally found it and dialed the number. I had to leave a message because he was out in the field. As soon as I left the message, I felt silly and wished I hadn't. Surely it couldn't have been important but now I would have to face embarrassment in front of the two police officers.  
  
I tried to concentrate on the movie. Harry and Sally were trading barbs back and forth, reminding me of Richard and me. I could feel tears stinging my eyes again. The knock on my door startled me then caused my heart to leap. Maybe it was Richard regretting his answer about us.  
  
I started to open the door and remembered what Richard had told me about my bad habits with visitors. With a smile, I sang out, "Who is it?" There was no answer. I smirked and jerked open my door.  
  
"Hey, Richard, I asked first so you could at least…"  
  
Instead of looking up into Richard's warm brown eyes, I was staring into a pair of sparkling dark blue ones.  
  
  
  
To be continued… 


	6. Chapter Six

Caroline and The Body Under The Stairs  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
  
Fear is a strange thing. The only fear I've ever known was empathizing with a heroine in a movie whose life is in jeopardy and she always seems to run upstairs instead of out of the building. I never could understand the idiocy of that. Not until now, that is.  
  
Real fear affected me in much the same way except that I couldn't move. I was frozen in place. I'm not even sure my organs were functioning. I knew in an instant that I was in big trouble and had no way out.  
  
The man I had only dimly recalled as a janitor mopping the hall on Tuesday stepped into my apartment and closed my door behind him. I guess my instincts were right about his shoes. He was taller and heavier than I remembered. It didn't really matter since I knew he would be able to overpower me very easily.  
  
"I was afraid you might remember seeing me that day. I've been watching you and I can see by your face that you remember alright." His dark blue eyes practically sparkled even in the dimness of my apartment. "Why were you snooping around the neighbors? Think they saw anything?" He laughed gruffly. "Nobody saw nothin'. They never do."  
  
I forced myself to swallow the huge lump in my throat. "I swear I didn't remember until just now. I'll just forget I ever saw you in the hall. Really, I will."  
  
He only smiled at me. "No, I don't believe you. You're just like she was. You're both liars. Just because I'm a nobody I'm not worth remembering." While he was talking, his right hand had slowly retrieved a length of rope out of his pocket and was winding it around his left wrist. "People like me are invisible."  
  
I briefly considered running for the window on the opposite side of the room but I knew it always stuck on the lower left corner and before I could pull it open, he'd be on me. The next choice in my fevered brain was to run upstairs. Yes, I know, don't say it. Just like in the movies. He must have read my mind because he immediately told me not to bother running upstairs. I tried something else.  
  
"Richard, come downstairs. We have company," I called up the stairs and even though my voice was shaking, I tried to sound convincing.  
  
Again he smiled at me. "I know your boyfriend isn't here. I watched him leave."  
  
The only thing left to try was to keep him talking. I might be able to buy me some time, time that would allow the police to arrive.  
  
"So, uh, Mister, uh, what did you say your name is?" I remember licking my dry lips at this point and stepping backwards.  
  
He advanced a few steps closer and tightened the rope between his wrists.  
  
"Name's not important. Let's just get this over with."  
  
"Well, you could at least tell me why-"  
  
"Why I killed her?" He stopped and pondered it for a few seconds. "I lived in her old building and I would watch her every day. I loved her and she never even noticed me. I was invisible to her. It took me almost a year to find her." He was looking off into the distance, caught up in his own memories. I used the precious few seconds to make a run for it.  
  
He caught up to me on the stairs. I felt the roughness of the rope against my neck, tightening and cutting into my skin. I strained my throat for air but the rope only became tighter. I tried to pull it away with my fingers but I wasn't as strong as he.  
  
I am here to tell you that the old saying of seeing your life pass before your eyes right before you die is true. As the air was being choked out of me and everything was going black, my mind flashed over my wonderful childhood, parents and friends. Then I realized that I would never be with the man I loved or share children with him. He and I would never grow old together and sit in our rocking chairs, recalling all the wonderful times in our life. He would never know how much I loved him. My heart grieved for the life I would never know.  
  
I would be just another body under the stairs like the woman on the fourth floor. Since Annie was out of town and this was Saturday, Richard wouldn't even find me until Monday and maybe not even then. He might just think I was out shopping for the day. I knew in my heart that this just might devastate him.  
  
The next few minutes were chaos and because of the lack of oxygen, I'm not sure of the order of everything that happened next. I do remember that I thought I was hallucinating because I heard my love calling my name. How ironic since my last thoughts on this earth were of him.  
  
The pressure around my neck lessened and I was dimly aware of a scuffle and breaking glass. I lay across the lower steps of my staircase desperately trying to pull air into my lungs. I could hear other voices in the commotion that I found out later belonged to Lt. Phillips and Sgt. Watson. They had been in the vicinity when they heard my message.  
  
Richard had heard me when he got off the elevator. He informed me that I was screaming like a banshee but I have no memory of this. He knocked the man flat on the floor, sat on his back and taken the rope that had been used on me to tie up his hands behind his back. This was the same Richard that was afraid to face the man that robbed him of his own wallet.  
  
I guess he must have impressed the officers with his action. I heard one of them say, "Good job, son. What kind of a knot is this anyway?" He mumbled his answer and that he had read about it in a book somewhere. That's my Richard.  
  
The moment I will never forget as long as I live is Richard running over to me, picking me up and holding me tightly in his arms. He kept saying my name and I thought I saw tears in his eyes.  
  
"Oh god, Caroline. Please be okay. I can't lose you. It's not fair. Please tell me you're okay."  
  
"Okay," I managed to whisper hoarsely.  
  
He stroked my face lovingly and I remember telling him I loved him. I had to tell him now. After all, I was given a second chance.  
  
Despite the emergency personnel surrounding me and my journey to the hospital, Richard never left my side or let go of my hand.  
  
  
  
So this is my story of the event in my life that changed me forever. I no longer take life for granted but cherish every day. As I finish writing this, I can feel my first child kicking and tumbling in my stomach and I pray that he or she will be just like my husband, sweet and kind with a hidden strength that shows itself when tested. I can easily say that I have never felt happier in my life.  
  
Annie is caught up in my pregnancy and informs me that she will be the best 'aunt' there ever was. Del makes jokes about my huge stomach and calls Richard and I the 'odd couple.' I think that he is secretly jealous of our happiness.  
  
There are times when my hand strays up to my neck and I touch the scar left there from the rope. I'll catch Richard watching me anxiously and I know that he, too, remembers all to clearly that day that he almost lost me. He has told me that he wasn't sure he could have made it without me. Both of us have learned that life is precious and we speak often of our love for each other rather than hiding our emotions inside because we know that life can end in the twinkling of an eye.  
  
All my love,  
  
Caroline Karinsky 


End file.
